Who We Could Be
by princette101
Summary: An AU that explores what lives Gin and Vodka could have led, had their situations been a touch different. Closely linked to Here Comes The Bri-Black Organization!


As soon as his key opened the apartment door, Vodka started to complain. He knew Gin was home, and he practised his monologue on the lonely drive home, so he launched right into it.

"You would think that these people would know how to file a freakin' expense report," He huffed, hanging his coat on his hook. "Took me forever to deal with that one problem, and when I was done, I had to fix another dozen!"

While he continued ranting, Gin came from the kitchen to wait for him to finish. Sure enough, after Vodka's practised speech of complaints was over, he swooped in for a kiss. Vodka smiled at the gesture and opened his briefcase.

"Happy anniversary," He said, awkwardly presenting his partner with a slightly crushed bouquet of flowers. "Sorry, they got uh, a little bit wrecked on the way over."

"Aw, sakurasou, my favourite. You remembered."

"Of course I did, you love that stuff."

"Not as much as I love you," Gin teased, taking the flowers into the kitchen for a vase. "I see it was a busy day?"

Vodka groaned, stretching his sore neck. "Things go a thousand times slower without you around. What did you do, take a personal day?"

"Yeah, I have a bit of surprise for you," Gin winked, placing the flowers on the table. "Chianti and Vermouth came by too. They took Rascal out for, as they put it, a day of pampering."

"I wondered where he got himself to. Damn, one day they're going to steal that dog right under their noses." Vodka sniffed the air then, as a strange but oddly familiar scent wafted through the air. "Say, does that surprise of yours involve cooking something?"

"Yep. Why do you ask?"

"Because I think it started to burn," Vodka pointed over Gin's shoulder, to the tendrils of smoke that rose from the oven's door.

After a hectic couple minutes of opening the windows and fanning the smoke out so the alarm didn't get set off, Gin sighed. "It's salvageable," He said, gesturing to the slightly charred dish. "Go ahead and get changed, it should be ready in fifteen."

"Good luck with that one babe," Vodka laughed, clasping Gin's shoulder. "I have faith in you."

Sure enough, as soon as Vodka emerged from their bedroom (wearing the shirt he knew Gin liked, a tight light orange one), the surprise was set. He stood there a while, taking it all in. The lights were off, with dim natural light from the window and a smattering of candles scattered around their dining space. The table was elaborately set with their best-looking dishes, and the vase of sakurasou sat delicately as the centrepiece.

"Do you like it?" Gin asked, a twinge of anxiety in his tone. "Is it too much?"

"No, it's perfect," Vodka insisted, grazing his fingers against the smooth tablecloth. "You really did all this? For us?"

"Well, it was mainly for you, but yeah, I did. Hard to believe it's already been five years but," Gin shrugged, setting their dinner on the table. "I wanted to surprise you."

Setting his sunglasses down on the table, blinking to adjust to the new light, Vodka smiled and gave Gin another kiss, accompanied by a tight embrace. "You surprise me every day," He murmured, "Simply by being yourself."

The tender moment extended for another couple of seconds before Gin gently reminded him that the food would probably be better hot then cold. At that, they sat down to eat. While they devoured the simple but delicious chicken and assorted vegetables, Gin told him all about the prep work.

"Chianti and Vermouth argued for half an hour in the store about what type of meat I should get," He said between a sip of wine. "I could have sworn we were going to get kicked out at any moment."

"So what choice did you go with in the end?"

"Neither! By the time they came to a truce, both choices already got taken!"

The rest of the dinner was spent pleasantly rehashing stories about themselves, Rascal, and their other co-workers. Before long, the last piece of chicken was eaten, and the last bit of wine was drunk. Vodka took Gin's hand across the table, and they sat like that for a moment, just smiling at each other, privately thinking about themselves. They weren't usually this sappy with each other; their work kept them pretty busy and pretty professional. These little moments they had together when they were alone with each other, definitely were something to cherish. Their friends were great people, sure, but sometimes Vodka found himself missing the early days. Where things were still getting settled in, and it was just them figuring each other out.

Funnily enough, as soon as the dishes were cleared, and they were relaxing in that post-dinner/pre-dessert lull, Gin brought up almost exactly what he was thinking about. Resting his head on his chin, Gin glanced out the window. With the waning sunlight reflecting off his silver rings, he smiled, before he spoke and asked, "Do you still remember when we first met?"

"Oh God, how could I forget?" Vodka groaned, already embarrassed by the memory. "I was an idiot that night."

"Speak for yourself! Remember the fruit?"

"Okay, the fruit was pretty bad for you too …and the dancing. And what happened when we got back to your apartment…"

Gin, with a sheen of a blush glazing his cheeks, stopped that train of thought. "Alright, alright, you can't go on that like that, C'mon, it wasn't like that. "

"Well then, hotshot," Vodka teased good naturally with a raised eyebrow. "Why don't you tell the whole story? If you can handle it that is."

"Hey, I've dealt with our boss more times than you can count. I can tell an embarrassing start to a love story easy enough." Clearing his throat, Gin began to set the scene…

…It took place at a hotel's ballroom, on an overcast night in April. An event was being held for Gin's place of employment, fondly called The Syndicate by the employees. No one was exactly sure what its official name was, or whether or not their employer had some sort of shady business on the side. Not every employee had a unique alcoholic based 'codename' and no one know exactly what the criteria was to receive one, but many of the best employees seemed to have them.

What everyone did know, is that it was an extremely successful business, hence their grand events, sometimes held at the end of a business quarter. The event in April was no exception to this expectation, as it was located at one of the most elusive hotels in their area; the Unlong.

"Do I have to wear this tie?" Gin complained, fusing with the lavender object in question. "This thing is tight."

"And I can't go to the restroom in this dress without doing gymnastics, so get over it," Vermouth snapped in her usual manner. Hitching her handbag on her shoulder, she opened the door to the hotel for them both. In her own prickly manner, she showed that she cared. Of course, their situation was a tad bit different given their past romantic intertwining, but things were still going pretty well between them.

Leading the way to the reception area, Vermouth looked at their elegantly dressed coworkers. "See anyone you fancy?" She teased, nudging Gin in the ribs. "Can't stay single forever."

"I'm doing just fine in that department thank you very much," He quipped, smoothing down his braid. "I just want to go in, make an appearance, get a couple of drinks, and get the hell out of here."

"Alright spoilsport, I can give you a drive back when I'm ready to head out," Vermouth stopped short in the entrance to the reception, causing Gin to bump against her side.

He started to protest when he noticed the look in Vermouth's eye. Following her gaze, he spotted a young woman by the wall, drinking a glass of cider. Exactly Vermouth's type too. "Oh, I know how this is going to go," He gave her a little push in the girl's direction. "Go get em."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'll be fin-"

"Great, I'll text you later!" Cutting him off, Vermouth smoothed her sequined gown and started her walk over to the woman of her fancies. He waited until the pair started to talk, and given as it looked as it was headed into a positive direction he left them alone.

He walked into the room, and stopped by a group of a few coworkers, with their respective plus ones. He didn't have much to do with their department, so when the conversation took a turn for business, Gin managed to slip away. After a couple more interactions with people, he found himself at a lonely table set in a nook of the room.

As he said, the band set up in the front of the room began to play their set, and the floor was swarmed with happy couples. He sighed watching them all, wishing he was back home. Sure, it was cold and lonely but he had paperwork to do. Anything would be more productive than sitting here, putting in an appearance no one really wanted to see. He didn't even have anyone to dance with, and even if he did, he wouldn't know what to do.

Just when he started to reach the peak of his weariness, a shadow fell over the table. "Shrimp puff?" A waiter said, gesturing to his tray of tan rolled pastry.

Although he could have done with some sort of snack, he refused, expecting the waiter to simply nod and walk away. He wasn't expecting the tray to be carelessly placed on the table, and he wasn't expecting the waiter to become an occupant of the empty chair at said table. Yet, the unexpected happened.

Gin studied this intruder with a careful and slightly curious eye; he was wearing the typical waitstaff uniform, with a few added twists, including rolled up sleeves revealing an interesting tattoo, a worn out pair of sneakers, a pair of dark sunglasses, and strangely gelled short hair. To sum up, this was no ordinary waiter. And that made him more than a little bit interesting.

"What's your name?" The stranger asked, not turning to face the subject of his question, but rather facing the crowd of dancers.

"In this context? You can call me Gin. What's yours?"

"Well, now I can't tell you my real name, that just wouldn't be fair, now would it?"

Intrigued even more, Gin ran his fingernail across the bronzed serving tray while he considered what to say. "What would you like to be called then? You gotta have some sort of dream name or whatever."

"Oh sure, but I need something to match yours." After a moment of thought, he snapped his fingers. "I got it! Vodka! Call me Vodka!"

"Vodka?"

"What, do you know one already?"

After mentally running through a list of his fellow honoured employees, Gin shook his head. "Oddly enough I don't."

"There you have it," Vodka extended his hand over to Gin. "It's a pleasure."

Warily, Gin grasped the hand (a pleasantly warm and large hand) and shook it. "Likewise." He wasn't expecting this exchange to go anywhere…but so far his expectations have failed him. Still, he didn't know what to do, or if he should say something or ask something, or what that something could be, so he sat there blankly staring at his newfound companion.

Luckily for them both, Vodka seemed to have more in the conversational talents. And he also seemed to be pretty gusty. "So, you're all dressed up, why aren't you out there dancing?" He asked, sticking his thumb towards the populated dance floor.

"I just don't feel like it, that's all. Besides, it's kind of warm in here already. And these are new shoes. And there's not really a point to it. And the band isn't that good." Gin could practically kick himself. Here he was with a nice-seeming guy and he just runs his mouth off with weakass excuses.

"Mhm, I don't think that's it. And by 'that' I mean your long list of potential reasons," Raising an eyebrow, Vodka smiled. "C'mon, spit it out."

Gin knew how to deal with pressure. He did board room meeting every week and he did enough work for two people. But something in Vodka's posture or tone just made him snap. And he told the truth. "I don't know to do any of what they're doing out there," He sighed, feeling more defeated than ever. "Besides, I don't even have anyone to dance with."

A moment of silence passed between them, and the jaunty dance music didn't seem to fit the now sombre mood. When Vodka stood up and wiped his hands on his dark pants, Gin thought for sure that he was going to leave, find someone better to talk to. But the night's theme of disturbing one's expectations didn't fail.

"Luckily for you, I can fix both of your problems," With a strong hand, Vodka yanked Gin out of his chair into a standing position.

Before long, much to his shock, Gin was doing some steps to a simple waltz, in the arms of one of the most handsome men he ever saw. The rest of the world seemed to melt away, leaving just them, in their own bubble of a corner with the sounds of the band playing through the air. He didn't experience this type of magic often, and the moment was strongly appreciated.

Vodka likely sensed that the pleasant atmosphere made it safe for another dicey move. "How come your coworkers aren't wondering where you are?"

"I could ask you the same," Gin snapped out of the light moment and delivered the response in a tone mostly reversed for Vermouth.

Laughing, Vodka shrugged. "I'm technically fired," He admitted. "They handed me my paycheck right after the prep work, those slimy bastards. Figured I would stick around, but damn if I was going by their rules now. Tho' not going by their rules was probably why I got fired in the first place…"

Damned if Gin was about to admit to himself, but his curiosity was growing stronger the longer his conversation lasted. He was interested. Desperately trying to sound casual, he cleared his throat. "So, uh, what are you going to do now?"

"Oh, damned if I know. I got my business degree, sure, but look where that thing got me so far," Vodka sighed. "I'll figure it out."

Just as the seeds of a plan were being sown in Gin's mind, the song finally finished, and the band took a break. With that, their moment ended, as did their embrace. Feeling the strain of exercise Gin gestured towards the bar, "I think I need a drink."

"Sure thing, let's go."

"And the shrimp puffs?"

"Eh, leave em. I'm pretty sure they're expired anyway." Vodka started the walk across the room, with Gin beside him.

"Yet you still offered them to me?" Gin was gaining some more confidence now. Something about this guy just made him feel comfortable.

"Of course!" Laughing, Vodka clasped his shoulder. "I probably wouldn't have let you eat it if you took one though."

"That's...something at least."

By the time they reached the bar, it appeared that half of the guests had the same idea they did. Gin spotted Vermouth and the girl from before in the middle of the line, laughing together. Seems like they hit it off pretty nicely.

"Aw shoot," Vodka groaned after seeing the crowd, along with the clearly stressed bartender. "They put the newbie in the rush. Listen, lemme help this guy out and then I'll get back to you, 'kay?"

"Of course," Gin nodded, still surprised about how this night was turning out. Leaning on a corner of the bar, he studied the crowd, catching Vermouth's eye. She then winked at him, along with a thumbs up. He rolled his eyes in response. Whatever she thought was going on clearly wasn't.

With two people behind the bar, the crowd dispersed fairly quickly, until it was just some guests at the opposite end and Gin himself. Vodka came over, after giving his coworker a high five. "Sorry about that," He said, sliding a glass over. "Have a drink."

"Gin and tonic, huh?"

"Forgive me for not being more creative with it."

"Mm, I can accept it." Taking a sip, Gin sighed with relief. It felt good to get some alcohol in his system; if he was going to get through this night, he would need it.

After a couple of drinks (mostly on Gin's end, although Vodka did have one or two) and some conversation about their respective positions, Vodka invited Gin behind the bar. Secretly, Gin hoped that Vodka wanted to show off. The realistic part of him seemed to melt away with booze.

"You're not really supposed to be back here, but, eh," Vodka shrugged with a smug look on his face. "Sometimes you just gotta screw the rules, y'know?"

As Vodka carried on talking about the various strict and hypocritical managers at his position, Gin started to poke around a little just to see what's what. He spotted a bag of what appeared to be fruit on the counter. Now, eating something just because it looks tasty and safe wasn't at all a good move. But, for whatever reason, be it his good mood, or the alcohol making its home in his system, Gin took a handful. Before he could register Vodka's hasty warning or the coldness of the fruit, he proceeded to eat it. Or at least, he attempted to.

"Yep, that's frozen fruit alright," Crossing his arms, Vodka looked on with amusement, as Gin struggled to deal with the frozen mass now in his mouth. "Not what you were expecting?"

At this rather undignified moment, an unwanted guest showed up at the bar. "Gin?" The amused stranger asked. "Is everything oka-"

"Everything's fine sir, he's just uh, testing something out for me," Grabbing Gin by the wrist, Vodka led him over to an ajar door. "Have a good night!"

"Same to you," The stranger said with a light tone, waving them off.

Safely in the storage room, Vodka quickly shut the door and turned on the lights. "Look, are you going to spit or swallow? Gotta choose sometime." The grin on his face fully revealed that he knew the double meaning of that particular phrase, and was enjoying having a little taunt.

After a moment to work up the nerve, Gin did eventually swallow the cursed fruit, leaving his throat feeling uncomfortably chilling. "Gah," He sputtered, still feeling the icy effects. "That…wasn't something I'm doing again."

"Good choice," Vodka pulled up two solid enough looking crates, took a seat, and gestured for Gin to do the same. "So, how did tall dark and gorgeous know your name?"

Gin groaned as he sat, thinking about the consequences this episode would have on Monday. "Oh, that was Snakebite. Younger than me, but also technically my superior. He handles recruitment and all that related paperwork. A nice enough guy."

"Mhm. How old are you anyway?"

"32. Birthday's in June. You?"

"34, just turned it a couple of weeks ago."

"Well then, happy belated birthday."

Vodka laughed at that, causing Gin to be startled. It wasn't the first time that night he made Vodka laugh, but the noise seemed to be richer in this desolate closet, rather than outside. He liked the feeling of making someone laugh. It's been a while since he had this much…fun.

Feeling antsy in this unfamiliar situation, Gin got out his trusty cigarettes and lit one. After looking up at Vodka, he realized that this might not have been the best move. Pulling it out of his mouth, he coughed before saying, "Sorry. Should have asked first."

"Oh, it's no problem. In fact, mind if I share? It's been a while."

Wordlessly, Gin offered it, and before long, after they passed it a couple of times, it burnt out. Feeling comfortable again, after their scare with the fruit, Vodka breathed in, before asking another question. "So, what's the deal with your company? Seems pretty intense."

"God, it's a lot. I've been at this company for…a long time. Runs in the family. International business, lots of smaller companies. I'm in executive planning, meaning not only we gotta come up with ideas, but we also have to carry them out. It's time-consuming and difficult and sometimes a pain in the ass…" Sighing, Gin gave a ruthful smile. "But it's worth it. I love what I do, although it's a lot to handle alone."

"What, no assistant?"

"Had a couple. None of them really stuck." With this topic in conversation, that seed of an idea began once again to sprout in his mind. He could use a partner, Vodka had a business degree and was out of work; why shouldn't it work out? Of course, even his tipsy mind could still the flaws in the plan, leaving him to keep his mouth shut.

Outside, the party continued, and in their own private part of sorts, things were going pretty well. They found a nice enough bottle of wine and a couple of glasses, which made the conversation flow even smoother than before. So smooth in fact, that in a lull they both began to talk at the same time. After a quick laughing break, Vodka gestured for Gin to continue his thought.

"I was just wondering…why the sunglasses? I mean, besides the whole 'fuck society and its bullshit rules'?"

"I can drink to that," Laughing, Vodka raised his wineglass. "But seriously, it's just cause of this weird thing with my eyes. Bright lights and stuff makes em burn like hell. I've tried some eye drops but, I just prefer these. Sucks when I'm cooking anything though, cause then I gotta take them off. I once thought the chilli flakes were the sugar…after that, the pain became worth it."

"Understandable…do you like cooking?"

"Eh, yeah. It's helpful for one thing, and it feels good to eat something I made," Vodka grimaced as he continued. "And it's damn nice being able to make better shrimp puffs than the frozen ones we're forced to use."

"Cooking out of spite…I like the sound of that."

"You should try em sometime."

"I would like that." As soon as he said it, Gin regretted being so forward. There's nothing like a quick conversation change to get out of a pinch. "Uh, what were you going to say?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I just wanted to ask about your hair. It looks pretty out there for a businessman." As he took another sip of wine, Vodka hastily added a compliment. "Not that it looks bad, it's just…unexpected."

Touching the end of his braid, Gin wondered how far he should go in his answer. And then he decided, screw it, and went for the whole story. "I'm trans. Took me a long while to figure that out. And when I did, I'm sure others thought I would cut it. But I didn't want to give up my hair just because I figured out that I'm not a woman. Then I dyed it sliver a while back, just for kicks. I guess it's something that makes me happy."

"I can get that," Vodka nodded. "Since we're on the subject…I'm gay. That took me ages to realize too. Caused me some grief but in the long run, I'm happy. Hopefully, I stay that way."

After topping off his glass, Gin made a toast, "May we both prove to be happy…and maybe get a boyfriend along the way."

"Oh, I will toast to that."

With a clink of their glasses, they drank in good health, in respect for their strange new friendship, freshly forged with the help of a little alcohol and some good conversation. They talked for a long while after that, about their childhoods, what they thought life would be like, about their families, their goals, old exes, and just anything they could think of. By the time the bottle of wine was empty, they could feel the late hour.

"Alright," Vodka groaned as he stood up. "I think it's time to be going. Give a minute to grab my stuff, I'll walk you out."

Gin was far too drunk to think something witty or remarkable to say to that, so he just nodded. By the time Vodka came back (and helped him to the door) the ballroom was deserted, save for a few members of the catering staff.

"Oh shit, there's my boss over there. Or former boss I guess, anyway, let's go and let's go quick," Grabbing onto Gin, Vodka made a swift exit to the doors. When they did so, Gin grasped for his phone, wondering why Vermouth hadn't contacted him yet.

Turns out she did, indeed, send quite a few text messages, mainly centred around the theme of both them getting lucky tonight. The final one mentioned that she was headed out early and that he should probably just get a taxi home.

Now outside in the cold and dark air of the night, he sighed. "My ride just flaked on me."

"Well, how far is your place?"

"Twenty by foot," He gestured broadly to the left. "It's over there…I think."

"Okay, I can walk with you, come on, let's get going."

They started out into the night together, Vodka supporting Gin as best as he could, considering they were both more than a little bit drunk. Which would help to explain what happened in the next and final part of their evening together…

Gin looked up at the night sky and thought he should be a good person. "It's late," He pointed out. "Why don't you spend the night with me?"

"Sure, why not? Thanks, bro." Vodka said, clearly showing his own tipsiness. "Appreciate it."

A while longer into their walk, Gin remembered, vaguely, the idea he had a couple of hours ago. This time, he was just drunk enough and happy enough to see it through. He grasped Vodka's arm and stopped them. In a serious tone, he said the following, "You…you should work with me. Please. I really need an assistan- no, a partner. I need a partner and you're the one."

Vodka laughed both at the concept, and the double meaning it could have. "You're drunk," He said, gently pushing Gin's shoulder. "You don't even know what you're saying right now. You're not serious about this."

Reaching up, Gin grasped Vodka's face and stared him dead in the face. He knew his look meant business; he used it so much it was second nature. He couldn't tell if Vodka was staring back at him then, but he knew that the message was as clear as it could be, for both of them.

He was deadly serious.

Not much happened in the rest of their journey, at least, nothing that Gin could remember. One minute they were on the street, the next, they were in his cramped apartment. The lights were on low and their stuff was splayed out on the coffee table.

"Look," Vodka said with a tired sigh, sunglasses off, rubbing his eyes. "It was nice of you to offer, but I don't really think you want me over tonight. It was great talking but-"

"Stay," Gin said, before grabbing Vodka's face, as he did outside. Except for this time, he dove in for a kiss. The lip connection wasn't broken by Vodka's disgust or anything of the sort. Gin had simply collapsed onto the couch, in a drunken stupor.

That's how the night ended for Gin. What Vodka did the rest of the night wasn't exactly clear. All Gin knew was the next morning. The morning where he woke up, fully dressed, in his bed, to the unfamiliar smell of breakfast cooking. He remained in a bed for a moment or two, fighting his dull headache while trying to remember exactly what happened the night before.

When he sorted it all out, he cringed. The first guy he met in months, and not only did he get drunk and invite the guy over, but there was also a job offer involved. Gin buried his face in the nearest pillow, cursing himself for landing in this position. He had to go out there at some point and confront the man he drunkenly kissed…and the man who was now cooking breakfast for him.

Before he did get up, he put on a clean shirt. And then he unbraided his hair and pulled it up into a ponytail. And then he ate a mint. Finally, he was both mildly presentable, and out of reasons to stall. His half-closed door exited right out in front of the kitchen, and he hesitated a moment more before he pushed it open.

The table was set with a simple breakfast to most people, but for Gin, it was the most luxurious breakfast he saw in a good number of weeks. Turning from the counter, Vodka rolled his eyes at the sleepy and stunned Gin.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty. You've got the emptiest kitchen I've ever seen," Rolling his eyes, Vodka slipped his sunglasses back on. "Good thing you're up, I was getting hungry."

"I…just…how..uh…"

"Just shut up and eat."

"Okay," Gin squeaked out, before pulling out a chair and sitting down to eat.

Their meal was silent, because, although Gin was bursting with questions and comments and concerns and apologies, he knew it would be rude to say them in the middle of a meal. So, he waited until after, when he insisted that he help Vodka with the dishes.

As they got into a rhythm, Gin cleared his voice and began to speak, "Look, about last night, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for being so…out there, but I need you to know that my job offer was for real. I think your degree and your attitude could really help out the company."

"And the kiss?" Vodka said, in a soft tone that seemed ready to break.

"…Yes. That also was sincere. And I know this is all so sudden, and it's confusing, and I don't want to assume anything, but I really like you a lot, and I think we had something going last night, and I know it's crazy to think about that and I'm so sorry, but I-"

He would have kept going. He could have kept going. One could say he expected to keep going. But last night's theme of the unexpected seemed to carry over.

Because Vodka kissed him. Right there, in sobriety and in daylight. After they pulled away, Vodka laughed a little, a gentler laugh than the one from the night before.

"I wouldn't mind a new change of pace. My personal life could do with an upgrade, ya know? I think you can give that to me, seeing as you're offering."

"And I would be honoured to fulfil that offer."

From then on they were partners, in more than one definition of the word. They got a bigger apartment, with a balcony, in a better part of the city. When they felt ready for it, they adopted a small Shiba, named Rascal, who they continue to love dearly. Their rough patches whenever they came, were handled as best as they could be.

"And five years later," Gin said, looking into the eyes of his beloved. "I still love the decisions of that night. Because without them, I might not have you."

"Wow. That's quite the story." With a smile, Vodka looked at Gin, who was still just as beautiful as the fateful night.

"Isn't it just. Here, I've got one more surprise ready, so just close your eyes for a second."

When given the signal to open his eyes, Vodka had to laugh at what he saw; a platter of shrimp puffs, arranged in the shape of a heart.

"Of course I made them myself," Gin said with a grin. "I found the old recipe, and well, it's sappy and it's here. And they're damn nice shrimp puffs."

After they both made sure that they were indeed, nice shrimp puffs, they retired to their balcony, to watch over their city. Gin moved his hand over to meet Vodka's on the railing. When Vodka looked over, he was surprised to see such a forlorn expression on his lover's face.

When pressed about it, Gin shrugged it off. "It's nothing serious," He promised. "Just, do you think, in another world, we wouldn't be together? Like this?"

"Not a chance, my love. No matter what world we're in, I will always love you, just like this."

Comforted by this solidly stated fact, Gin leaned in close, and like he did all those years ago, kissed the man he loved. Nothing could break their feelings for each other-not in this world, and not in any other.


End file.
